Is Forever Enough?
by Guardian Kysra
Summary: A series of snapshots recording the evolution of the nonromance between Robin and Raven. From Raven's POV. Complete.
1. Part I: The Hour We Met

**Author's Note: **While on vacation visiting Emaniahilel (on she had me listen to "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks and described a visual that came to mind. I asked if I could draw the visual, she said yes. Later, I asked if I could write something around that image. Again, she graciously said yes. This is the result.

Also, you can find the illustration at my devart account - kysra . deviantart . com.

_**Spoilers for "Haunted."**_

_**Is Forever Enough?**_

_By Kysra_

Part I: The Hour We Met

It has never been simple between us despite how it may have looked to an outsider. He was simply too complex a soul to be anything less than utterly complicated, and I will be the first to admit that, even with my unique . . . _gift_ of empathy, he was always a trial to decipher. He seemed to be in permanent crisis, the surface of his aura frayed 'round the edges, a veritable tempest of nervous logic and kinetic reason too jumbled to read clearly; and just beneath that thin layer of swirling tension was a wall as black and dense as my own yet unlike any other I have ever encountered before or since.

My point, centrally, is that in the beginning we were colleagues, teammates, partners; and though he never expressed any sort of aversion to my using my powers on him, Robin's emotions have never been easy to read. If I had wanted to know what he was feeling at any given moment, I would have had to dig deep and tread carefully; but it wasn't that he was stubborn or jealous with his emotions, it was that he was overly protective of them. It was a distinction I respected though I have no doubt that - even in those shaky, early days of mere acquaintance - should I have asked to touch his essence, he would have given me free access to everything he was.

As things turned out, Guilt was born the day of Slade's special powder, the day Robin allowed me to enter his mind despite how little time we were both given to prepare for such an event. But Guilt did not survive long, not when Robin was so gracious in accepting my intervention, and not when I realized what would have happened had I waited just a little longer or not acted at all.

I date my fascination with him from that night. There is something comfortable about Robin, something inherently genuine that shines in spite of the mask; and that night I understood why I felt so. In his history, I knew his heartache because it was my own. In his memories, I felt his determination to fight and overcome any obstacle, and I aspired to that same unflappable conviction. In his dreams, I found the keystone to my own hope and faith, and I never once suspected that he drew the same brand of strength from me. In the instant my soul embraced his, some undefined barrier shattered and I was suddenly aware that I was fortunate to have found someone like him, that I was absolutely blessed to call him "friend."


	2. Part II: The Day of My Birth

**Author's Note: **While on vacation visiting Emaniahilel (on she had me listen to "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks and described a visual that came to mind. I asked if I could draw the visual, she said yes. Later, I asked if I could write something around that image. Again, she graciously said yes. This is the result.

Also, you can find the illustration at my devart account - kysra . deviantart . com.

_**Spoilers for "Birthmark."**_

_**Is Forever Enough?**_

_By Kysra_

Part II: The Day of My Birth

I would not have survived the fall. This I know, as did Slade, as did my father; but Death did not greet me as asphalt that night. After all, it did not serve Father's purpose to kill me. I was integral to his main objective, and he needed me alive enough to drive insane. Slade's interest in me, however, was limited to 1. my father's plan for me and 2. how he could use me in his unending quest to hunt and hurt Robin. So he chased, terrorized, and finally let go my unconscious body from the top of the Stratosphere only when Robin was within viewing (and swinging) distance.

No, Death did not greet me that night, but Robin's fury did. Until that moment, when I woke to find myself cradled in his arms and staring up into his masked eyes, I had never known what a truly angry Robin looked like. My only knowledge of Robin's own brand of determined rage had come second hand from my teammates and Titans East. I was given to understand that such a mood in my leader was something to be feared and possibly deadly. Considering this, I was deeply fortunate that, as I took in the tension of his body and the ominous line of his usually expressive mouth, I couldn't find the energy to be afraid or nervous. The hours of running and hiding from Slade and his words had been enough of a strain for one night.

As it was, I felt shocked that Robin did not leave me to track Slade down, did not even glance around to see if the criminal was still there; and considering I did not have the strength to walk on my own, I was grateful that I seemed to be more important than a walking, talking corpse.

No words were exchanged as Robin visibly swallowed whatever violent emotion was erupting just below the surface, as he set me against his back and looped his arms to rest against my bottom in a piggy-back carry.

It was singularly embarrassing, but at the time, I was more concerned about the state of his injuries than my own vulnerability. Robin is the type of person destined to die while helping people. I know this as surely as I know I would not have survived that fall. It was the knowing that urged me to use the very last of my energy to heal him, and - as I recall - I couldn't stop the relieved sigh that came as I felt him straighten and quicken under my thighs.

It did occur to me to ask why he was _walking_ to the Tower when his R-cycle could seat two people and was parked only a few blocks away; however, there was a thread of unfurling need spiraling around him that silenced my tongue. His anger may have been set aside, but it certainly wasn't gone. Ultimately, he needed to work off the excess tension, and I . . . well, I needed to hold on to the source of my courage in the face of Slade's dark promises just a little longer.

When we finally reached the Tower - lit up as it was with the returned presences of Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Starfire, I fully expected Robin to set me down and call on Cyborg to carry me to my room; but when one becomes acquainted with Robin, it becomes clear rather early that he never fulfills expectations. He _transcends_ them.

Instead of ridding himself of my weight, he continued his hold, trudging to the elevator and transporting us to the third floor; and in those short minutes, I could feel his awareness of the empty hallways, ever ready to shield my near-nude form from our friends and their inevitable questions.

Reaching my room, he set me upon the bed and surprised me yet again. Still he remained to remove my boots, tuck me in beneath the bed covers, and pull a chair to my bedside before gently enveloping my hand in his.

As it had been a night of raw emotion thus far, I imagine I may have betrayed the utter confusion and awe I felt as his feelings - for once - overwhelmed me. Robin was anything but confused or awed that night (or after), and what I realized from him was no less frightening than Slade's resurrection or my father's promised return.

And I knew I would not have survived the fall just as I knew Robin loved me.


	3. Part III: In a Week's Time

**Author's Note: **While on vacation visiting Emaniahilel (on ff . net), she had me listen to "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks and described a visual that came to mind. I asked if I could draw the visual, she said yes. Later, I asked if I could write something around that image. Again, she graciously said yes. This is the result.

Also, you can find the illustration at my devart account - kysra . deviantart . com.

_**Spoilers for "Prophecy" and "The End."**_

_**Is Forever Enough?**_

_By Kysra_

Part III: In a Week's Time . . .

I never spoke of the events of my sixteenth birthday, and my friends respected my privacy enough to never venture into that line of conversation. It was enough having lived through it.

Similarly, Robin took my silence concerning his actions in particular as a sign that I wished my silence to extend to him. Starfire was becoming unbearably obvious in her admiration for the Boy Wonder, and it was literally impossible for me to translate my own feelings on the subject. If, then, it seemed that I desired to forget everything having to do with my birthday and Robin's . . . _affection_ more than anything else, I was completely justified.

However, when one sees his friend suddenly tattooed with supernaturally glowing foreign symbols and watches said friend physically attack another (no matter how well deserved the attack may be) when he knows she enjoyed a pacifist upbringing, it is inevitable that there will be questions; and I will be forever grateful to all of them for not digging too deeply, for accepting only what I was willing to give. It is hard to be open about something you've always known, futilely fought against, and buried within your soul.

The night of the abandoned library, then, was my lowest point, and it was a bitter discovery that even Robin couldn't protect me from the Hell Slade and my father had furnished for me. I made the decision to give my power to them that night, and they never suspected that, over the next few months, I steadily infused each of them with pieces of my soul self.

I knew my father's entrance into Earth could not be stopped, but my resignation had nothing to do with a lack of confidence or hopelessness. On the contrary, I had every confidence that my friends could overcome Father's coming and every hope that my protection would be enough to see them through the approaching threat.

I suppose, then, that Robin was correct in accusing me of being a "hopeful" person; and when all was said and done, my hope had been doubly justified. You see, in my plans, I never included a contingency plan for my own survival. In my mind, between the night of my birthday chase and the day of the eclipse, I was doomed. Once I had accepted the absolute truth of my own death, I began to make provisions for the others without once looking back. No, I was to be the cause and instrument of Father's passage into Earth, and I was counting on the Titans' resilient fighting spirits and their individual, complimentary talents to spell their triumph over the demon.

What I didn't count on was Robin's undying loyalty and stubborn inability to admit or accept defeat. And he brought me back from my living nightmare, simple as that.

When it was all over, my friends and I had to go through a marked transition period. I refused to cut my hair (again) for several days, wanting to experiment - the first time I ever gave in to such an impulse. It took four very intense dyeing sessions to get my uniform back to its original color (apparently being free of my father's influence had turned my aura into an effective bleaching mechanism). My friends treated me gingerly, as if I would break into a million pieces (or summon my father again) should they say the wrong thing or behave a certain way. The first time I cracked a smile instead of destroying the television at one of Beast Boy's pranks caused Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Starfire to drop into dead faints.

And through it all, of all of us, Robin remained unchanged, ever the steadfast rock of stable familiarity.

Being stable and familiar, I was well aware that, though he was allowing my silence for the moment, it was understood that his patience was finite, and soon enough I would _have_ to talk to him about everything even if I never spoke of it to anyone else. Robin's obsession with all things Slade was only second to his obsession with acquiring knowledge.

It was a week after my father's short, tumultuous reign on Earth ended that Robin sought out my lone company, presumably to talk about all the things I had heretofore desired to remain locked inside me. I was standing at the edge of the bay watching the sun set when he approached, and I greeted him with a question, "Are you here to spout more philosophy on the relationship between myself and _hope_?"

The grin he threw around so carelessly had suddenly found a companion in mine as he answered, "I try not to repeat myself."

Silence fell between us as it always did when we were about to embark on some heavy, possibly life-changing discussion, a silence broken by my whisper, "Why did you come after me? I gave you and the others power to survive. I wasn't meant to come back." I had paused to look at him directly, hearing my voice break a little as I dared to speak my greatest fear aloud, "You could have died."

My first impression of Robin could be summed in one word: **Bold**; and as we stood, sky all molten red and orange around us, that first impression was proven accurate.

Taking my shoulders in his hands, I knew his intention was not an invasion of my precious personal space but to shatter any lingering notion I may have been entertaining that he (and the others and _everything_) was mere haunting apparition. His hands warmed me, and his accompanying words took my breath away, "If you can't figure it out yourself in a week's time, I'll spell it out for you." And then, as if to soften the semi-ultimatum, his gloved fingers came up to tuck stray hairs behind my ear before coasting down along my cheek.

I was left upon the shore feeling somewhat cheated that my assumptions had been wrong; but more important was the new _something_ coiled tight in my middle. It was something beautiful and potentially dangerous at the same time - similar to the young man who had inspired it. It was something that told me that - more than beating Slade at his own games, more than acquiring all the knowledge to be had in existence - I was what Robin desired most in the world, and _that_ was why he had come for me.


	4. Part IV: A Few Months Along

**Author's Note: **While on vacation visiting Emaniahilel (on ff . net), she had me listen to "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks and described a visual that came to mind. I asked if I could draw the visual, she said yes. Later, I asked if I could write something around that image. Again, she graciously said yes. This is the result.

Also, you can find the illustration at my devart account - kysra . deviantart . com.

_**Spoilers for "Hide and Seek."**_

_**Is Forever Enough?**_

_By Kysra_

Part IV: A Few Months Along

It's a common misconception that we Titans only function as a team. In reality, we were actually given individual assignments when the need arose; and it just so happened that, several months after he promised to "spell it out" for me, Robin pulled me aside after breakfast one morning to schedule a one-on-one briefing.

This was not an unusual occurrence as Robin was not only a remarkable leader but also an excellent manager, able to match team member with client according to said team member's strengths and weaknesses alongside the demands of the job as if it were mere reflex. There was no need to include the others in what would become my mission; and since I had the utmost trust in Robin's judgement where crime fighting was concerned, I did not question his outline of the job ahead. It was to be a simple courier run: go to start location, pick up cargo, carry cargo safely to end location. Simple, though Robin did warn me that the cargo was _special_, that it was not only special to us but to the rising and irrepressible Brotherhood of Evil.

As the danger was very real despite the simplicity of the actual assignment, Robin insisted that we plan and begin a personal hand-to-hand combat training program for myself. So, when I wasn't pouring over maps and plotting out the clearest, safest route to get the _special cargo _from point A to point B, I was locked in the gym with Robin getting punched, kicked, and thrown.

We did not speak of his feelings or mine. There was no flirting, teasing, or any sort of physical contact that was not of the violent-with-purpose kind. Our sessions were strictly business-as-usual, and I was not disappointed that it was so.

Our friends, however, began to make connections - though, I was notably neither the recipient of Robin's favoritism nor did he treat me differently in any significant way.

Beast Boy, surprisingly, was the first to take notice though he limited his commentary to grumbling about Robin's pheromones stinking up the Tower whenever I was within earshot. I did not understand his jibe properly until years later (which is very fortunate for Robin). Cyborg, on the other hand, merely threw an occasional warning glare in Robin's direction if he got too close to me. And Starfire, well, she declared a small cold war for a time until she realized that I had done, was doing nothing to invite Robin's attention away from her. Eventually, she just outright threatened to feed me to a razor-toothed Snapgort should I dare break Robin's heart (as if I were the one causing such an uproar) before declaring me worthy of the title "Friend" once more.

Considering all of that, I saw the opportunity to venture forth on my own (in the Alps no less) as a sort of vacation. After all, there was no indication that there would be any unforseen obstacles (though I was certainly prepared should something arise); and I desperately needed the space such a separation promised.

Imagine my surprise when I realized the _special cargo _was three small children.

Unfairly (I can admit that now), my immediate reaction was to think Robin was punishing me for my lack of a response to his feelings. This conclusion was only confirmed (in my mind) when all efforts to contact him were denied. Later, I would discover that he had sent me to the Munchkin Maulers not only because I was the most suited to the task, but because Professor Chang had been making some very vocal, very personal threats against the Titans on behalf of a colleague. Apparently, the threats were serious enough for Robin to send me away as an effort to preserve his second-in-command as well as Titans West while he and the others threw themselves into a battle royale with several members of the Brotherhood in a prevention themed retaliation.

And while he and the others were taking care of one threat, I was struggling with another - in the form of Msr. Mallah. It has always been a point of speculation, the reason why Robin chose me to be his second-in-command; and no mission had ever illustrated the answer so perfectly as my first hours in the Munchkins' company.

Robin and I have very similar theories where battle is concerned, theories that are based upon very specific moral guidelines. It is in our approach that we differ significantly. Where Robin bounds head-first into a fight and molds events through his reactions to the enemy, I will hover above the fray and give aid or protection where I can. Both positions require an ability to take accurate account of a rapidly changing field and strategize accordingly within a second's notice. It is a talent both Robin and I possess though we harness it in opposite ways. He is most clearly the aggressive offense of the team whereas I am strictly a defensive player.

And what the Munchkin Maulers needed most during their trip to Sanctuary was someone to defend and protect them.

And though he could not possibly have known I would become so utterly attached to Melvin, Timmy, and Teether, I cannot deny that Robin had made the right choice . . . Just as I made the right choice in deciding that I loved him back.


	5. Part V: First Year Anniversary

**Author's Note: **While on vacation visiting Emaniahilel (on ff . net), she had me listen to "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks and described a visual that came to mind. I asked if I could draw the visual, she said yes. Later, I asked if I could write something around that image. Again, she graciously said yes. This is the result.

Also, you can find the illustration at my devart account - kysra . deviantart . com.

_**Is Forever Enough?**_

_By Kysra_

Part V: First Year Anniversary

It was the day after Speedy's wedding when our mutually kept silence on the subject of _us_ met a disappointingly cliché end.

We were twenty and twenty-one then and had been living together for exactly one year, though our relationship had remained strictly platonic. Robin had long since made the transition into Nightwing, and though Blüdhaven had never been on my list of cities I would like to reside in, I found myself comfortable there in our shared crack-in-the-wall two bedroom apartment with its chronically leaky pipes, faulty wiring, and persistent pest problem.

I had acknowledged sometime after the Brotherhood of Evil had been dispatched that my life did not begin until I met Robin; and as I sat across from him at our rickety third-hand dining table, I knew that I wanted to leave this life with Robin holding my hand. I had to come to grips with the idea that I would not be satified with mere friendship forever; and it seemed that Robin was of the same mind as he had been growing ever more weary of forcing the playboy facade he had adopted for public presentation. He wanted to settle, and he wanted to settle with me.

The night had been filled with carousing and the morning was hushed. I remember our matching rumpled looks, the twin cases of severe bed head, how he ruffled my already hopeless hair as he shifted past to grab the maple syrup, how the sound of my hand swatting his shoulder was happily drowned by his laugh.

Over toast, jam, and pancakes we spoke of the wedding - how gorgeous the bride was, how lovely the service, how enjoyable the reception. He asked if I had fun dancing with a strange look in his eyes, and I assured him that I had.

We had not attended the celebration _together_ as we were ever careful to avoid misrepresenting our relationship in public or otherwise, and I desperately wished that I could find the words to tell him that the most pleasant dance of the evening had been the dance shared with him.

Silence fell upon us as I began to gather the breakfast dishes and he began reading yesterday's newspaper. I became lost in the mundane task of scrubbing and rinsing - my back to him, his face still hidden by the open paper - when his voice, soft and deep, reached me, "You looked beautiful."

Smiles will always be rare on my lips, however, I did not have to view my reflection to know I was smiling at that moment, "Did I?"

"Yes. I believe Garth noticed as well. He asked me if I thought you would be interested in going out with him sometime." There was something tentative in his voice. It sounded like fear.

I could have answered in a million ways that would have meant nothing at all. I could have ignored the comment entirely and kept pretending that all there would ever be was what we already had. I chose, instead, to answer the unvoiced question hiding behind his words directly, "You have nothing to worry about."

And he had nothing to worry about. _Nothing_. Because he had been patient long enough; because he allowed me the time I needed to become the person he deserved; because I needed him as much as he needed me and I wanted to let him know it; because I had to make him understand that I had been and always would be _his_.

I jumped but did not turn to face him as his chair scraped against our linoleum kitchen floor; and though I should have been nervous as I felt his warmth at my back or clumsy with the knowledge that I was on the verge of expressing my last secret, I had never felt so clear-headed or such a complete calm.

His breath against my neck, his hands reaching for mine under the faucet spray . . . "I'm not worried exactly. It's --"

A breath and, "I'm already in love with you."


	6. Part VI: Forever and Beyond

**Author's Note: **While on vacation visiting Emaniahilel (on ff . net), she had me listen to "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks and described a visual that came to mind. I asked if I could draw the visual, she said yes. Later, I asked if I could write something around that image. Again, she graciously said yes. This is the result.

Also, you can find the illustration at my devart account - kysra . deviantart . com.

_**This is the last installment and the chapter the illustration pertains to.**_

_**Is Forever Enough?**_

_By Kysra_

Part VI: Forever and Beyond

For as long as I can remember, I have been homeless. I did not know this was so until I had become sufficiently acquainted with Earth culture and conceits.

Azarath was the place of my birth, merely the location where my existence began. I did not belong there, not only due to the circumstances of my life and parentage but my eventual rejection of Azar's core teachings in my quest to rid myself of Father's influence.

Earth, on the other hand, was a functional and potential battle ground. I saw the landscape and its propensity for producing such extraordinary individuals as the Justice League members as a fortunate means to an end. That my unoffending nature was ignored, a label thrust upon my shoulders, and my request for aid unkindly denied only served to encourage my sense of ostracism.

When I ran across the four who would become my fellow Titans, then, I was wholly unprepared for their acceptance of me. So, I hid from them and cultivated my "dark" identity in the midst of such striking, diverse personalities.

And still I had no home. Certainly, the Tower was like what I understood a home to be. It was a romantic notion, one that was as attractive as it was insubstantial; but I desired such an inviting residence regardless. Soon enough, I began thinking of the Tower in such affectionate terms; and still, I was rational enough to acknowledge that it would never truly be such. This hulking T-shaped mass of a building was where I cultivated friendships and created the first of many _happy_ memories; where I sought sanctuary and treatment when injured; . . . where I grew into a well-adjusted adult. And, though I was needed and wanted there, though I was comfortable with my friends - family . . . for all of that, I didn't belong _there_ either.

So I left, as my friends did, because Titans Tower was never "home," not really. It was a cocoon protecting us for - despite our power and combined skills - we were still only children who needed something (if not someone) to shield us from the world until we learned to fly on our own; and it was only a matter of time before we found our wings.

Our apartment was not home and our house is the same. It annoys Robin that I do not regard our domicile as anything more than what it is - a modest building that _houses_ us from the elements. I have an inkling, however, that he is finally beginning to understand that my concept of such a place is very different from his.

_Robin_ is my home.

It hits me one night when he returns to our house from a two week business trip. He was tired and sought slumber earlier than his usual 2:00 A. M. When I entered our bedroom, I stood just inside the door, watching.

He is beautiful when asleep, his face fully relaxed and young, mouth curved into the barest but most tender of smiles, longish ebony hair tossed carelessly across the pillow. I smiled before I even realized it, and it's something only he has ever inspired. I admired his form - the rough maleness of his body softened by the loving moonlight, the bulk and length of him; and my heart constricted as my eyes drifted over the empty space next to him.

I had been lonely without him, a strange feeling for one so self-reliant. It did not take me long to pad over and slip into our bed. I lay there, staring at his back for long moments before reaching out and draping an arm across his middle, my face leaned in close to the space between his shoulder blades. Closing my eyes, I let my hand curve along his chest, feeling his heart thrum against my fingers. I could hear the rhythm of his breath singing into the stillness; and his limbs warmed mine as our legs entwined without conscious thought.

But I still wasn't satisfied, still wasn't entirely convinced he was really there with me again despite the web of his aura all around me and his solid body in my arms. Giving into impulse, I nuzzled against his bare skin, breathing his familiar scent and feeling my heart swell to bursting. And just like that, I held a sense of profound _belonging_.

Because it has never been simple between us; and he is my faithful secret keeper and lover; and I did not know how empty or cold my life was until I met him. Because he is beauty without conceit and wonder without fear; and I am myself - enough. And we somehow come together in near-perfection with every breath and every shared emotion.

And I have been homeless.

Until now.


	7. Part V: Robin's Response

_Requested by Emaniahilel in an lj meme regarding time stamps for posted fics – A moment after the last line of Chapter 5._**_  
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**_Is Forever Enough?_**

_Robin's Response_

_by Kysra_

"_I'm already in love with you."_

He sighs heavily as if a great weight has been lifted and he can finally breathe, stills her scrubbing hands beneath soapy water, trapping slim fingers, entwining them with his. "When?"

Her hair smells of sleep and moonfall, and he can fairly picture her pursing mouth as his face finds a resting place at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Her torso rises and falls with breath suddenly quickened, and he knows that the smile that kisses her just _there_ is the cause. "Not so early as you."

_She knew_ . . . Surprise is muted by the comfortable realization that he had always known that she knew. It was simply the way with them. "_When_?" He reiterates, thinking for just a moment that it is distinctly unfair that she has knowledge that he intrinsically lacks.

Small, feminine, water-wrinkled hands urge his own up and into dry air even as she leans just a little into him, shifts just a bit to the side, granting better access to the line of her jaw, her cheek, her ear. "I'm not certain." She is barely whispering, her voice shuddering with a tinge of fear. "But it was a conscious decision."

"You _decided _to love me?" He releases one hand to free his own so that it may be put to better use, urging her to turn slightly, caged as she is between himself and the counter, tempting her face toward him.

She merely nods wordlessly, and he can see the gravity in her eyes. It pulls him as it has always pulled him, and he wants to yell from the rooftops and celebrate that he no longer has to hold back, that he can finally, finally have her. "After the Brotherhood, I decided to stop repressing it. I let myself feel what I would feel for you."

_Thank God._ Again that sigh of immense relief. "Why?"

Turning fully, she faces him directly, hands now free and braced upon the sink rim, bare feet in line and between his own, a familiar expression on her face. "'Why are you trying to annoy me with these inane questions'?"

He grins and leans in, damp hands roaming up and down her sides before settling at her hips. "Why are you telling me now?"

Violet eyes skip over his face as her tongue wets her dry lips and her nervous fingers come to rest upon his own. He knows this look on her, knows the kinetic drive of her thinking. She is weighing the validity and tact of several responses, musing over his projected reactions, deliberating on the circumstances and what type of answer is called for; and he waits her out as he has always waited, because Raven is the sort who demands patience in all situations.

"You needed to know that I wanted what you wanted." She eventually strangles out before staring up at him through her lashes. "And I wanted to taste what every woman in Jump City, Gotham, and Bludhaven has already tasted."

"Oh?" His nose bumps hers and his palms slide around to press her body flush against his; but she isn't fazed in the least, and he would have been disappointed if she had been. So he grins blithely into her eyes even as they darken as if to say he should be ashamed for making her vocalize what he had already guessed.

Her arms snake around his waist. "Indeed. I think I'm the only girl you've ever come across and haven't kissed." She says it the way she says everything, and somehow it still sounds like an accusation.

"You give me too much credit."

"Maybe, but it's still true, isn't it?"

He tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and wonders why he's still playing with her when he's been given such a golden opportunity. Then, as if in answer to his silent bemusement, she smiles that secret smile - the one he fancies was made for him - and he chuckles. "I promise I've never kissed Jinx or Terra or any of the female Brotherhood."

They are locked together in an embrace in the kitchen talking about kissing while doing none themselves. The irony does not escape him.

"I am only interested in why you never once tried to kiss me after you knew you loved me."

Her body shudders against his, and he immediately knows she is being honest. Pulling her more firmly into him, he shields her as if her insecurity were an outside force threatening her. "It's never been simple between us, has it?" He murmurs into her hair as her palms rest and span upon his shoulder blades. She shakes her head silently, urging him to continue; and he does. He owes her this.

"If I had tried, would you have let me?" Again a head shake, and though stopping now would be permissible, he trudges on. "And if you had let me, I wouldn't have been able to let go. I wouldn't have been able to walk away. I wasn't ready for that yet. _You _weren't ready for that yet."

He can feel her hands clutch at his shirt as her head comes up, her eyes meeting his; and they are so close that all it would take to close the gap is the barest downward shift of his chin. Once he understands that the balance has shifted, that _she_ is now waiting for _him_, he wastes no more time - framing her face with gentle hands then taking her mouth in ways he's never wanted to take another's.

And when they are breathless and his forehead rests against hers, eyes closed and heart pounding with something sweet and warm and strange but comfortable, she speaks in a voice that is low and quiet and somehow _sultry_, "I think I want to own your kisses."

He chuckles and briefly presses his lips to her crown before resuming their previous position, enjoying this fantasy come to life. "Certainly, but for how long? Is forever enough?"

Commitment is something he has spent his adult life running from, but he knows one word from her will stop him in his tracks. She doesn't disappoint. He dares to hope that she never will.

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out." Then her lips are on his again and his hands are supporting and lifting her to sit on the counter as he breaks away just long enough to finally tell her that he loves her too.


End file.
